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The Happiness Foundation
The average businessman wouldn't usually come across an event like this in his entire life, but I however, have experienced the strangest sequence events the past few days. I know this is going to sound crazy. I know no one will believe me. But it's good for me to tell you, the viewer, about my spiral to insanity. I only knew about The Happiness Foundation in 1999, when I was still young and sane. The Happy Flyers I worked at a stable job everyday at CitiBank, working long hours to keep up the income so I can save enough to care for my child, Caroline. I had a loving wife at home, who would stay at our apartment to make sure everything was nice and orderly. We lived in an apartment in New York City, an expensive but beneficial location. Everything I said above is going to change in the matter of three weeks. Because of my location so close to home, I would usually just walk there. Buses would get me to the same area in the same time with excess cost, and same for cars. Me and my wife don't go travelling much either, so we just stick with walking the whole way to wherever we went. However, everyday I would face the same problem. The streets were cluttered with random people, scattering around like pigeons, constantly irritating me when I went to work. For the sake of describing how frustrated I was, I'll put it this way. I could have torn apart a few people there, maybe two or three, whenever I got blocked on the streets. This was probably the reason why I saw the flyers. One day on my way to work, I had stopped to wait in a humongous crowd towering right in front of me. Just then, I had noticed a flyer that was quite disturbing when I thought about it, but also strangely enjoyable. "There are too many people walking around these days. You can change that, one person at a time. -The Happiness Foundation." It perfectly described my pain, but it could have been interpreted in a different light. Of course, you could already guess what I mean. Something felt off about this flyer, mostly because that it had no true purpose to it. No one seems bothered by the crowds in the street, nor could anyone change that. The other interpretation seemed to make a little bit more sense now. Then again, what was The Happiness Foundation? I had never heard of them until now, which felt odd to me. Maybe they were business who needed some help, or just some attention seekers. I arrived at work, and decided to forget about it, but then again, I should have asked someone. Maybe somebody happened to know the answer. The next day, I had realized there were less people on the streets. Significantly less. That's it, I'm calling the police. As far as I knew, it wasn't a holiday or a day that statistics show to have less work days, so I might have been in the right there. But then again, it could have been a coincidence, so I guess I was in the wrong. The police came over to the street where I had seen the flyer, and where the flyer still remained. They told me that there had been no murders yesterday, not any that they had yet been notified of. So, I moved on with my day. The next day had confirmed some suspicions of mine. Because of the little amount of people walking on the streets that day, I had extra time to stop by the coffee shop to get a latte. One sip had burnt my tongue, and as soon as that happened, I cursed into the air. I cursed the man who made my latte so scorching hot. I should not have been such a whiny baby about it. Then I noticed the lamppost again, to see a new flyer, from The Happiness Foundation. "The coffee's too hot. Just stop. -The Happiness Foundation." Oh no. The next day, the coffee man was gone. The manager had stated that he quit the job. I tried to careful about what I complained about, but I couldn't control it. I screamed at my co-worker, Bradley, for filing the papers incorrectly. I'm very inflammable, so I can get angry easily. I had decided for the day, that I keep my frustration written in a journal, so I don't have to scream it. It worked very well. Whatever The Happiness Foundation needed for another excuse to kill, it's going to be hidden for only me to see. "A to Z, you dumbass. -The Happiness Foundation." I left the journal at home. Big mistake. Bradley "didn't show up" to work today. I predicted that was going to happen, because the world decides to work that way. Nothing upseted me today, but for some reason the flyers changed today. After closer examination, it subtly described everything I was angry at yesterday. "Shut up and keep working. -The Happiness Foundation." "Stop spamming, that's an order. -The Happiness Foundation." "So many people are unlikable these days. You can change that one person at a time. -The Happiness Foundation." And so on. But all of that was written in my journal, so that means that someone has found my book. I ran home that day, went up to my apartment, and almost fainted when I saw my book, wide open, close to an open window. A paperweight had stopped the pages from flowing out of order, sitting on one of the first pages in my journal. My wife was working in the same room. She was supposed to be taking care of the house, but she probably just sat there while a robber was sneaking in. I got so angry at her. I couldn't believe that I had just unintentionally committed murder. I couldn't even control my anger for even a second before I started screaming right into her ears. I know she didn't understand how important that journal was, nor did she seem to realize that anyone had snuck in. But in reality, she should have. Now, half my colleagues are dead. Upon closer examination, the journal had red circles around the names of the people and the actions they committed that made me angry. It is clear that this so called "Happiness Foundation" wants to help me somehow, but not in the way I wanted them too. They are targeting some of my closest friends here, and I'm the carrier for that kill order. I tried going off to sleep soundly that night. I couldn't. My baby, Charlotte, decides to start wailing when I was drifting off to deep sleep. "Shut up, Charlotte." The next day, there was literally no one in the cubicles around me. It was actually fine for a while. Some were actually really annoying. But then I realized that they are dead, and murdered by me. The daily paper mentioned nothing about any disappearances, let alone any murders. I had come home early to try calming myself down, hoping I can get some joy from my wife and child. They weren't there. They weren't home. And I knew exactly why. I'm leaving. The day after that day, I flew to Russia, my homeland, to live there for the rest of my life. I hope they would stop following me, stop ruining my life for a change. Sure, I knew little of the language, but I could make money by just washing clothing. I can live there forever, in safety. I can't be bothered here. Another flyer. I was at the laundromat, and got a little bit frustrated with the new currency. They found me, they're stalking me once more. "Русский валюта переоценена- Счастье Фонд" I knew enough Russian to figure that one out. Fuck this. I hate you. I'm living in my shack, and I will never leave. I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want to hurt anyone. If you, in particular, are reading this, leave me be. Edit (Written in Blue Pen) If you read this, you'll think I'm crazy. I'm not. I can't deal with this anymore. Goodbye cruel world. I'm not happy. Research During the period of 1999, suicide rates in the US have gone up significantly. Although this might have been a coincidence, it is no doubt that the cause of this wasn't murder. This journal has been found in a pile of papers, jumbled into an unorganized pile. The papers are in Russian writing, each one of the same formatting. "-Счастье Фонд." Счастье Фонд means "happiness foundation" in Russian. The body had been found, hanging from a noose, in the cellar of the house in which the resident had lived in. One flyer in particular states this: "Я рад, что он мертв, Он был так раздражает- Счастье Фонд." Category:Mental Illness Category:Reality